The first time Lawrence Sinclair saw Virginia Blackwell, the world was still young.
Manhattan, 1922. The ballroom of the Plaza Hotel glittered like a jewel box thrown open to the night. Chandeliers burned with a thousand candles, and the jazz band in the corner played something that made the air itself feel alive. Lawrence, twenty-three years old and heir to a Long Island fortune he barely understood, stood at the periphery of the crowd, nursing a glass of champagne and...
0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews